


Echoes

by saramck



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Future Fic, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:25:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saramck/pseuds/saramck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and one-shots originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly Captain Swan, Captain Cobra, or Swan Believer, but the occasional odd pairing is thrown in. You'll find AU's, missing scenes, and my take on future moments. Please enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation Light Swan

**Author's Note:**

> A Captain Cobra missing scene from episode 5x08.

Henry misses Emma, he misses her _a lot_ , but not in the ways that one might think. He misses the way she leans over his shoulder to see what he’s reading. He misses the sound of her laugh when he tells her a story. He misses the sharp smack of her hand against his when he tries to steal her onion rings. He misses the way she always seems to smell a little bit like cinnamon.

When Henry has trouble sleeping in his lumpy bed at Granny’s - which is _nearly_ every night - he likes to go downstairs and sit in his and Emma’s regular booth. Some nights it helps him miss her a little less. Some nights it makes him miss her a little more.

Hook finds him there late one night, an old edition of the _Storybrooke Mirror_ strewn across the table. “May I join you lad?”

Barely taking his eyes off of the crossword puzzle in front of him, Henry nods as Hook slides into the booth.

“You’ve been working on that thing for three days, mate. When are you going to admit defeat?”

Henry looks up and stares pointedly at classified ads in Hook’s hand. “I’ll admit defeat when you admit you’ve been house hunting.”

Hook barks out a laugh. “Touche.”

Henry smiles and goes back to his crossword. The pair work in companionable silence, with only the scratch of Henry’s pen or the ruffling of a page breaking the silence. The sun slowly rises and casts an orange hue over the chrome and leather of the diner. Granny enters from upstairs and calls a sleepy “hello” to the diner’s only occupants. 

Eventually the hum of the coffee pot kicks on and the sound of frying eggs and the smell of toast fills the sunny room. One by one the dwarves file in, talking over one another as per usual, filling the space with the clinking of silverware on plates and the thump of mugs on tables.

Henry, attempting to fill ‘23 down’ in on his crossword puzzle, is interrupted when Hook grabs the red felt tip pen right out of his hands. Hook circles something in the paper and writes a quick note, but Henry can’t read it upside down.

Hook spins the newspaper to face Henry, eyebrow cocked and grin firmly in place. Red lines enclose the picture of a two-story house with a white picket fence. The words “This one?” are scrawled above the image in Hook’s looping script.

Henry’s eyes light up and the smile on his face gives Hook the answer he was hoping for. “You know, this has the beginnings of a covert operation.”

If possible, Hook’s grin widens even more. “I think you might be on to something, lad.”


	2. Gingerbread Men and Pirate Oaths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about in three ways: blinding belief that Emma and Killian will have magically inclined children, that Killian is the pushover-parent, and that I needed to write a little Christmas fluff (with a dash of smut.)

“Liam, put that cookie down.”

The little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes shakes his head adamantly, one pudgy hand emitting a soft gold glow. He’s trying to steal a third gingerbread man from the stack piled high on the counter. It’s slow going – he’s still getting used to wielding magic and his abilities are intermittent.

“That’s not going to work, Dad. Why won’t you let me use my magic?”

Killian glances briefly away from Liam and focuses on his much more levelheaded daughter. “Because that’s besides the point, love.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes and goes back to ignoring the scene unfolding before her.

Killian taps his hook thoughtfully on the table. He could try to intercept it before Liam manages to float the cookie to his seat at the table, but Killian’s been zapped by his children’s magic one too many times. A temperamental and magically inclined five year old is not one to be taken lightly.

Killian is halfway out of his seat – electrocution via magic be damned – when the front door opens and Liam loses interest in the cookie heist.

“Mama!” Liam claps his hands in delight at the sight of Emma, the picture of pure innocence.

Killian and Charlotte share a look, eyes practically rolling out of their heads. _Oh_ , Killian thinks with a spark of pride, _so that’s where she gets it from_.

Emma sets the groceries down on the counter and with a practiced flick of her wrist, the groceries magically put themselves away. Normally, she’d make Killian and Charlotte do it sans magic – but the holiday cheer must be rampant in the streets of Storybrooke. Emma must be in a particularly good mood – one that would quickly be ruined if a certain nine year old blabbed about the activities of a certain 5 year old.

“Charlie,” Killian hedges with a winning smile, “why don’t you go upstairs and get that book we were talking about earlier?” They both know exactly what he’s really asking: Please don’t tell your mother I let your brother eat his weight in Christmas cookies.

Charlotte’s eyes narrow and she glances between Liam and the plate of cookies on the counter. She’s extremely stubborn – a charming trait she gets from both sides of the family.

While Emma is distracted with removing Liam from his booster seat, Charlotte rises from her place at the table and approaches her father. In a whisper she demands, “I want to be able to use magic to clean my room.”

Killian glances at Emma before responding equally quietly. “Fine – but one month only. And don’t tell mum. It’s strictly against her rules.”

Charlotte grins and sticks her hand out. “Do we have an accord?”

Killian frowns, but shakes her hand regardless. _Where in the hell had she gotten that from?_

* * *

 

It isn’t until later that night, as Emma and Killian are getting ready for bed, that Killian’s victory in the kitchen is completely overturned.  

“So,” Emma begins as she climbs under the sheets, “where was I when we agreed to let Charlie use magic to clean her room?”

Killian tries to deflect. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

Even though they’ve been married for years now, some old habits die hard - nicknames, a penchant for the sea, trying to distract your wife from discovering yet another parental blunder.

Emma smiles and scoots closer, placing a lingering kiss on Killian’s cheek. “And don’t think I’m not aware of what Liam was up to this afternoon, either.”

“Wait a second love,” Killian grumbles as he props himself up on an elbow. “How in the bloody hell could you _possibly_ know about that?”

Emma turns over and presses her back to Killian’s chest, burrowing further under the covers. Like every night, she turns the lights out with a wave of her hand. “Charlie may be a daddy’s girl, but she can still be persuaded to my side with the right motivation.”

Killian wraps his arm around Emma, his hand warm against the softness of her t-shirt. “What did you bribe her with?”

“The one thing any kid would value more than magic – I told her she could start dating.”  
  
Killian starts so violently his chin connects with the top of Emma’s head. “You told her WHAT!?”

Emma pushes Killian back into the pillows. “You’re too easy.”

Killian rubs his chin as his panic subsides. “It’s not kind to startle a man like that, Emma.”

Emma kisses his chin, and other decidedly delightful places, in apology. “You know better than anyone - it’s rude to discuss a vow made with somebody else.”

Killian hums as Emma continues the slow assault on his neck. “Pirate.”

“Takes one to know one,” Emma replies as she presses closer to Killian.

Killian grins and rolls Emma over until she’s looking up with that smile reserved only for him.

As Killian turns his attention to Emma and her delightful places, Emma grabs his left ear rather painfully and whispers, “The next time you want to cover your tracks, maybe you should bribe the five year old instead.”

Killian’s ears turn pink, throbbing pinch notwithstanding. “Aye, captain.”

“Now,” Emma whispers as she releases Killian’s earlobe, “where were we?”


	3. Words in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Captain Cobra and Swan Believer feelings for you to cry over. Missing scene from 5x11, because I can’t believe that Henry would’ve left Emma alone all night.

After they take Killian’s body away - the air was so cold and Emma’s screams were so loud - Henry watched as Mary Margaret and David forcibly dragged his mother away. Through the trees, Henry could hear her continued screaming, a violent and guttural reaction to what had happened beside the water.

He goes home with Regina and Robin, but regrets that decision as soon as he walks through the door. He waits for Regina and Robin to close themselves away in their room before he sneaks out. The walk to Emma’s is quiet and it helps him to clear his head of the memories that keep replaying over and over again.

_Killian’s hand warm on his shoulder on the deck of the Jolly Roger._

_Operation Light Swan and conspiratorial talks and leftover lasagna._

_Killian’s reassurance that he’d do whatever it took to save Emma._

_Killian’s promise that he’d always be there._

There are no lights on at Emma’s house, but Henry can hear her ragged breathing coming from the couch just inside the living room. She doesn’t acknowledge Henry when he sits down on the floor next to her head, hand coming to rest softly on her shoulder. Her hands cling to the last thing she has of Killian’s - his ring.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

They sit there together all night, Henry never moving from his spot on the floor. He does the only thing he can think of - he talks about Killian. He tells her of their adventures on the Jolly Roger, what it felt like the first time Killian took him sailing. He talks of lunches shared with David and Killian, a boys only affair filled with jokes and stories of grand adventures. He whispers about secrets planned for the future - of gardens, white picket fences, and family dinner’s at Granny’s.  

It’s only when the sun rises and the sound of chirping birds can be heard through the window, that Henry finally stands. He presses a kiss to Emma’s salty cheek and squeezes her hand, only reducing the pressure of his grasp when her eyes finally connect with his.

“I love him, too.”

After Henry leaves, one last squeeze of his hand on her’s, Emma grips the ring in her hand even tighter. In the quiet she can finally hear the whispering echoes that Henry had kept at bay all night.

It’s the dagger calling to her. With that sinking dread, she rises from the couch - there’s someone she needs to see.


	4. Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Request: Can you write something where Emma meets Killian instead of Neal and he doesn’t abandon her? [Written right before Christmas and set in a Modern AU with little Emma and Killian.]

When Killian walks into Mrs. Brown’s fourth grade class, the first thing that _literally_ hits him is a girl in a red corduroy jacket. She doesn’t stop there though – she pushes him out of the way in favor of continuing her pursuit of a skinny boy wearing converse.

A woman wearing a Christmas tree patterned turtleneck calls out, “Emma! Stop chasing Jesse and return to your seat, please.”

It appears this Emma girl is not in favor of following anyone’s rules though. The boy, Jesse, is now pinned against the chalkboard. After a few moments, he reaches into his pocket and produces a miniature snow globe. With a final warning, Emma returns to her seat and places the toy on the desk of a girl sitting next to her.

Killian watches as Mrs. Brown, or at least who he assumes is Mrs. Brown, makes a beeline for the grouping of desks that Emma is sitting at. Mrs. Brown talks to Emma for a long time, but Emma remains stiff and stares straight ahead.

When Mrs. Brown is done with Emma, she approaches Killian with a smile. “You must be Killian Jones. Welcome to our class.”

Mrs. Brown guides Killian to Emma’s cluster of desks and says, “Why don’t you take this seat here? This is Emma and Lizzie.”

Killian scratches his ear nervously and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re fast.”

Emma looks at him for a moment before going back to her interrupted task – ripping her Santa themed coloring page into tiny pieces.

* * *

It takes a week for Emma to initiate a conversation with Killian. They’re at their desks building snowmen wreaths out of construction paper when Emma says rather bluntly, “Hey, Sticks.”

Killian looks up from his wreath, eyebrow raised in question. “Who me?”

Emma rolls her eyes, “Yes, you. On a scale of one to ten, how dumb is this craft?”

Killian, who had rather been enjoying the project actually, responds with “Negative seven.”

Emma smiles once and then returns to her task. They don’t speak again for the rest of the day.  
  
Killian doesn’t think his heart has ever beaten that fast before.

* * *

The classroom Christmas party really puts Emma in a bad mood. Even though Killian and Emma rarely talk, and that’s being generous, Emma sticks close to Killian throughout the party. She chooses to be on his team for the ‘Name the Reindeer’ game, she sits next to him on the floor during story-time, and stands next to him for the class picture. She fidgets a lot with her long-sleeved shirt and only smiles when Killian draws a stick figure wearing a Santa hat and labels it as himself.

Things really take a turn for the worse when Mrs. Brown suggests that everyone tells the class what they want for Christmas. Emma, who was carefully pulverizing an elf shaped cookie, abruptly stands and asks “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, but you’ll need a buddy. Any volunteers?” Emma is a little intimidating, so Killian is the only one to raise his hand.

Once out in the hallway, Emma slumps against the wall and slides to the floor. “What a stupid party.”

As an avid fan of Christmas, Killian doesn’t necessarily agree. He joins her on the floor and says quietly, “I think it’s fun.”

“Santa isn’t real. You know that, right?”

As it happens, Killian _is_ aware of this fact. He has his older brother Liam to thank for that. “Yeah, I know. I still like it though. It reminds me of my mom.”

“At least you have a mom.”

Killian picks at a hole in his jeans. “She died three years ago. It’s just me, my dad, and my brother now.”

Emma places her hand over Killian’s. “I’m sorry.”

Killian feels like his hand and his heart are going to burst into flames – Emma Swan is _touching_ his hand. “Do you know what I want for Christmas?”

Emma removes her hand, a blush growing on her cheeks. “No, what?”

“I want to be your friend.”

Emma rises from her place on the floor and offers Killian a hand. “You’re on probation, Sticks. A long probation.”

Killian grins as Emma helps him into a standing position. “That’s okay, Emma. I’ve got all the time in the world.”


	5. Mud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: can you write something fluffy like CS giving their child(ren) a bath please!? [A future-take drabble with Daddy!Killian feels.]

“Killian, why is our daughter covered in mud?”  
  
It wasn’t his fault - not entirely anyway. Storybrooke had been perpetually rainy for the past three days, and Charlotte was tired of being stuck inside. After countless games, movies, toys, and food bribes, Killian was at the end of his proverbial rope. There’s only so much one can do to entertain a four year old. (Especially a four year old with the combined genetics of one Killian Jones and one Emma Swan.)  
  
Killian abruptly dropped the handful of mud he’d been holding. “Swan! You’re home. I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon.”  
  
He really, really hadn’t. When the bribes stopped working and Charlotte gave him the look - big eyes and pouty lips and “please, daddy” - Killian folded like a table made out of paper. Since it wasn’t raining too badly, Killian bundled her up in a coat and a hat and tiny rain boots and led her outside. That was mistake number one.

To be fair, the whole thing started out innocently enough: Charlotte jumped in some puddles, stuck her hand in mud and tried to eat it, and then smeared her dirty hands on Killian’s new jeans. In order to prevent any other mud related incidents, Killian turned on the outside hose to clean off Charlotte’s hands. That was mistake number two.

“I see that look, Swan. Charlie and I were bored inside, so I thought a walk around the garden might be nice.”

Emma skirts along the edge of the mud pit and carefully picks up a laughing Charlotte. “You get to stay here while I take care of this little pirate.”

“Outside?” It’s starting to get cold and Killian’s jeans are soaked through.

Emma nods pointedly to the mud covering a good portion of his body. “You’re in time out.”

Okay, so maybe things did get a little out of hand. He hadn’t expected the water pressure to be quite as strong as it was, and with one vigorous turn of the tap, he managed to get water not only on Charlotte’s hands, but on her pants, her shirt, and in the flower bed she was standing in. She was so surprised, she teetered over and landed in the newly formed mud puddle.

Killian had had enough experience to know when a full-on Charlotte meltdown was imminent – he had to act fast. So he did the only thing he could think of – he sprayed himself with the hose and plopped down in the mud right next to her. Before long, the two were splashing in the mud and flinging it at each other. It was the most fun Killian had had in a while – until Emma came home and found them ruining her tulips that is.

It’s a good forty-five minutes before Emma comes back and opens the door – she had locked it behind her – and joins him on the back patio. “Okay. Strip.”

“I beg your pardon, Swan?”

“You heard me. You’re not setting foot in my house covered in mud. Take off your clothes.”

Killian watched as Emma crossed the lawn and picked up the the thing that started this whole entire mess. “Why are you getting the hose?”

“Do you know how hard it is to get mud out of hair? More specifically, the hair of a squirming toddler who insists on rubbing it all over the bath tub walls?”

“Emma, I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t do this.”

Emma passes the garden hose back and forth between her hands. “If you ever want to have sex with me again, you will let me have my revenge.”

* * *

It’s a good hour before they finally make it back inside, Killian shivering and wet and devoid of his clothes.

It’s a good thing Charlotte is such a good sleeper.


	6. The Carrick Bend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 5x11 speculation on what’s to come after everything else. Pure Captain Cobra fluff - you might need tissues.

He didn’t talk to anyone for three days following their return from the portal, Emma included. It wasn’t that he was angry or upset with anyone, it just hurt too much - to think, to form words, to start living a life he wasn’t quite sure he deserved.

Henry was the one to finally snap him out of it. He wanted to go sailing, and since Killian needed the space the sea provided, he hesitantly agreed. (There was nothing quite like the rock and roll of the deck and the spray of the sea on his face.)

Since Killian wasn’t his usual self, at least not just yet, the deck of the ship was void of any conversation. To pass the time, Henry practiced tying the knots that Killian had taught him all those months before. The carrick bend was a particularly challenging knot, with eight different points of intersection and the joining of two different lines into one.

From his vantage point at the helm, Killian noticed Henry’s struggle with the ropes. After securing the wheel, he joined Henry on the bow of the ship.

“I can’t get it,” Henry lamented as he attempted to cross the two lines again. “This is impossible.”

Killian took the tangled mess from Henry’s hands and separated the two ropes again. With a small smile, he patiently tied, loosened, and retied the ropes several times. He made sure to slow down during the parts when Henry would press his face closer, muttering the steps to himself quietly. He reached out and took the ropes from Killian and successfully, albeit a little messily, joined the two separate ropes into one.

Killian clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, a feeling of pride overwhelming him. He might not get a lot of things right, but at least he could do right by the boy.

As Killian left to return to his silent perch, Henry called out “What were you like when you were my age?”

Killian’s steps halted, the sound of waves rushing through his ears. No matter what it might cost Killian, he couldn’t deny Henry - not now, not ever. He returned to Henry’s side, Killian’s shoulder pressed tightly to his as they looked out at the sea rushing by them.

Killian began to speak softy, his voice rising in confidence as the words poured out of him. Stories about his beginnings, his father’s betrayal, those early years under the control of a cruel, but just man - things he’d never told anyone else about himself. Henry followed him around the Jolly as they tended to the needs of the ship, Killian’s voice never faltering during their tasks.

When Killian finally fell quiet beside Henry back at the helm, wheel grasped tightly with his fist, Henry spoke his first words in hours.

“My earliest memory is…” began Henry as his voice rose over the sound of the the wind in their ears. He told Killian of boyhood dreams, what it felt like the first time he met Emma, and what it feels like to be the Author - to finally be a part of this enchanted land they’re all connected to.

It was here, on the most treasured ship in all the realms, that a man and a boy shared their secrets with each other. Not unlike the carrick bend, a knot which binds two lines into one, their secrets were now each other’s.

_The next morning Killian came downstairs to find Henry’s practice rope tied into a perfectly orchestrated carrick bend knot._

_Beside it sat a note which simply read “Thanks, Dad.”_


	7. i'll never die when i'm dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 5x11 speculation about Killian's time in the Underworld. This one's a little angsty.

_I’m bigger than my body_  
I’m colder than this home  
I’m meaner than my demons  
I’m bigger than these bones

[Halsey / Control]

* * *

His last thoughts are of her. Her eyes, and her hair, and the smell of her leather jacket. The feel of her skin on his, her hands cold but soft. The dampness of her tears on his neck and the sound of her cri-

Everything goes black, but suddenly -

He awakes face down in a patch of dirt, his breath catching with the frigidness of the air. His first thoughts are of _him_ \- the Crocodile and his lies and revenge and misdirection. _Betrayal_.

He failed her. _He failed them all_. There are no heroes in the Underworld.

He rises to take in his surroundings, the darkness of the night creating monsters out of trees and ghosts out of mist. The air is damp and heavy, pressing in on the empty spaces in his chest. He presses a hand over his heart, waiting for the solidifying thump of it’s continued existence. It never comes.

He’s standing on his own grave, the dirt freshly overturned and clinging to his boots. The tombstone is large and cold to the touch, rough against the pads of his fingers. Concrete angels mock him from the edges of the dark cemetery.  

 _Killian Jones_.

He feels nothing and everything all at once.

It’s hard to keep warm in this purgatory, a deep chill settling over everything and everyone. He takes refuge in their _literal_ dream house - white picket fences, flowers, kisses, and _home_ \- to cut the ache. Even in this world, the couch smells of Emma’s shampoo and the scent of her perfume lingers in the air. They may call this the Underworld, but to him it’s far closer to Hell.

If he thought his thirst for revenge was unyielding before, this new taste for retribution is unbearable. His hand tremors with the need for action, his eyes burn with helplessness. He spends his first night pacing the house, frustration mounting as the sun casts light over the dark.

It’s almost too much, but then -

She bursts through the front door, red jacket gleaming in the sunlight. She launches herself into his arms, nose buried in the sensitive flesh of his neck. Her hair is soft and her laughter is intoxicating.

“Emma,” he gasps as he presses closer, holding her as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

She’s there one moment, real and solid and _Emma_ , but -

She disintegrates in his arms. The memory of her floats away like ashes, until the only thing that remains is him.

“Did you really think it would be that easy? That she would come for you?” A voice drawls from the doorway. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

Killian meets the gaze of a man clothed in a suit and top hat, lips pressed into a sinister smile.

The man continues, “You mere mortals are so weak and disillusioned.”

Killian stands taller, his hand clenching into a tight fist. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

“I know everything that happens in my world, mortal.” The man growls as he steps further into the house. “You have no idea who _you_ are dealing with. I’m willing to forgive your sharp tongue, Killian Jones. There is power here, more than you could begin to imagine. It could be your’s, but as with everything, it comes with a price. So who will you choose to be? A man of power or a man of weakness?”

_His last thoughts are of her. Sunny days in the harbor and grilled cheese sandwiches and soft kisses. Promises of future and family and hope._

_Killian Jones is dead and buried. He cannot survive here - there are no heroes in the Underworld._

“The Killian Jones you think you know is dead. He was weak and blinded by love, and I assure you mate, I’m much more than some lovesick puppy.”

“I was hoping you would say that Mr. Jones,” the man says gleefully, with a bow and a tip of his hat. “Hades at your service.”

“Hook,” he murmurs in response. “You can call me Hook.”


	8. The Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt but drastically modified because my brain goes so off track: i found you asleep in the stacks. we’re closed. please go home. [Captain Beauty. I guess I would call this a ‘missing moment’ set during Season 4, but not during any particular catastrophe.]

Belle approached the sleeping lump of leather tentatively, cringing at the drool running down his chin and dampening the book beneath his face. “Killian?”

When the lump didn’t respond to vocal prodding alone, Belle shook his shoulder roughly. Killian jerked awake, his hair matted and right cheek pressed with creases. “What’s amiss?”

Belle laughed as she picked up the book Killian was using as a pillow. “Everything’s fine. Well, maybe not this poor book you were abusing with your saliva.”

Killian wiped at his chin, his ears reddening in embarrassment. “Apologies, love. What time is it?”

Belle gestured to the clock above the circulation desk. “Well past my bedtime, and by the looks of it, your’s as well.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Only twenty minutes or so. When you offered to keep me company I assumed it meant you’d be awake for it.”

Killian scratched his ear, a sheepish smile on his face. “It appears I have fallen prey to that abhorrently dry tome you made me read.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “First, you picked that book to read - not me. Second, I told you I would be fine researching by myself but you insisted on helping. Third, don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking rum all night. It’s no wonder you fell asleep.”

Killian looked down to find his empty flask on the table next to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Belle laughed as she started gathering books from the desk into her arms. “That charm doesn’t work on me, Killian. My name’s not Emma.”

Killian took the stack of books from Belle’s arms into his own. “Oh trust me, love, it doesn’t work on Emma either.”

“Poor baby,” Belle smiled as she patted Killian’s cheek. “At least one of us was productive tonight.”

“Does that mean you found something?” Killian asked as he followed Belle across the library.

“I was able to find a counter-spell, but it still needs to be modified. I’m going to talk to Regina about it in the morning.”

Killian placed the books on the circulation desk and eyed the miniature chalkboard hanging below the clock. “Does that mean you technically won?”

Belle nodded triumphantly as she grabbed a piece of stubby chalk and changed the number under her name from 17 to 18. “Yup. That’s now a total of 18 successful research finds for me. Sadly, you still reside at ½ a point.”

“Hey, I worked very hard for that half of a point!” Killian grumbled as he eyed the chalkboard with contempt. “This whole competition is ridiculous to begin with.”

Belle wiped the chalk from her hands. “You started it. I won’t blame you if you wanted to forfeit and admit defeat.”

Killian shook his head repeatedly as he helped Belle put on her coat. “A pirate never admits defeat, love. That’s bad form.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Emma walked into Granny’s to find Killian and Belle arguing over plates of waffles and stacks of books. She knew better than to get in the middle of one of their disagreements - they’d eventually settle down.

They were best friends after all.  


End file.
